


Because the Night Belongs to Lovers

by comtessedebussy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Happy Ending, Human Castiel, M/M, Play Fighting, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sex Worker Castiel, Soul Bond, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Vampire Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comtessedebussy/pseuds/comtessedebussy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True Blood AU - Castiel is a feeder and provider in Zachariah's Palace of Heaven and Hell, offering sex and blood to a very select (vampiric) clientele. It's the only life he's known- until a vampire named Dean Winchester walks into his life and shows him what it is to be human. </p><p>The rape/non-con warning is in relation to Castiel's "profession" in general; please see notes for more detailed explanation of warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please be warned: this fic contains a lot of potentially triggering scenes of both violence and non-consensual/dubiously consensual sex. Castiel is not a sex worker by choice, which automatically makes all of his encounters with his clients non-consensual/dubiously consensual; furthermore, due to the particular nature of the world depicted and the fact that these are vampires, these encounters are sometimes violent, bloody and possibly otherwise traumatizing. If you are easily triggered, please proceed with caution. 
> 
> On a lighter note- so, so many thanks to my lovely and amazing beta, Tennyo!

 

Dean Winchester walked down the brightly-lit street of downtown Lawrence. All around him, he could hear the sound of excited conversations and flirting from the bars and restaurants around him. A few of the bars – the Vamp Bars, as they were called, most of them done in foreboding black and red - were quieter, the sound made up for by the noises coming from the alleyways next to them, where humans – “fangbangers,” as they were called – let vampires feed on them. They offered their necks willingly, apparently unconcerned that the cute man or woman they’d been flirting with the entire evening was a predator that could kill them. Full of excitement or adrenaline, some of them possibly glamoured, or just danger junkies, they were happy to let their lifeblood flow with no consequences. Willing, and probably ignorant.

That wasn’t what Dean wanted at all.

….

“He wants you to fight back.”

“What?”

Of all the requests Castiel had had from his clients – and there were a number of patently unorthodox ones – this was something he’d never come across. Most of the vampires who came to Heaven and Hell to satisfy their urges (sexual, vampiric, or both) wanted their humans willing and pliant. Some enjoyed being crueler than others, and some paid for the privilege of doing what even no fangbanger would agree to for free – but they all paid for him to be willing while doing it. Or to pretend to be willing while they chose whatever cruel method they desired to draw the blood from his body and drink it.

Apparently, Zachariah, too, thought that this “Dean” was an unusual client – he rarely gave Castiel his briefings and assignments in person. That was a job for his lackeys, and Castiel’s heart had hammered in his chest when he first saw that it was Zachariah who entered.

“He wants you to fight him, as hard as you can. Try to run away until he holds you down and has his way.” Zachariah looked unconcerned, as if he was describing a simple exchange of money and not something as messy and personal and intimate as sex or blood. “He paid quite well, and he insisted that you fight as hard as you can, so that’s what you’re going to do.”

“He wants me….unwilling?” Castiel was still confused.

Zachariah shrugged. “He wants that impression, yes. That shouldn’t be too hard for you, should it, Castiel?” Zachariah asked, and the statement hiding behind his words was clearly discernible.

For all of his life, Zachariah’s Palace of Heaven and Hell was all he had known – first as a youth, performing menial tasks, and later, when he grew into boyhood and his looks, as a feeder and provider. Zachariah practically owned half the city – he had the politicians and the police in his pocket, and anyone who lived within his half of the city owed him loyalty - and money. It was a good, old fashioned monopoly – and Castiel’s family, unable to pay and raise all of their multiple children, had given him to Zachariah to raise and make use of as he would. In return for raising, feeding, and educating him, Castiel would owe his loyalty – and his body – for as long as Zachariah deemed necessary, until his debt was repaid.

“Yes,” Castiel said, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice. He’d get to fight one of these creatures for once. He’d lose, because vampires were stronger and faster than humans, and that’s probably where the thrill would lie for this man – “Dean” – knowing that he could have Castiel effortlessly, no matter how hard the human fought.

But if unwilling was what he wanted, why had he come here and paid? Why not take some helpless human off the street? It was illegal, of course, but most of the clients who came here seemed little concerned with legality. Castiel had barely a moment to ponder this before Zachariah’s voice broke into his thoughts again.

“Good. He also wants to know your safeword.”

“What?”

This request was even more unexpected than the last, and it was all Castiel could do to keep his mouth from dropping open. None of his clients had ever asked for a safeword before. They all accepted, grudgingly, the standard one – “red” – at Zachariah’s insistence, but most also insisted on a partial refund if Castiel used it. They’d come here to be satisfied, after all, not to deal with human frailty. Zachariah never took losing a single cent well, and most of the time Castiel had taken whatever his clients inflicted upon him rather than dealing with Zachariah’s wrath.

But this – this vampire, Dean, had apparently _asked_ for one.

“Using the standard one would make us look  - well, let’s just say it would give a different impression than the one we’d like this particular client to have,” Zachariah said. “So you’ll have to choose a word, Castiel.”

Castiel’s mind blanked. He had so few things to cling to for hope in his life, that the idea of coming up with a word that meant safety was utterly alien to him.

“Hannah,” he said finally, naming a sister he’d had once, long ago. His memories of his parents were few and far between (even when he was being raised by them, they were rarely home), and the only fond memories he had were of his siblings. It was for them that Castiel stayed here, fearing Zachariah’s retribution upon his family if he escaped. Duty and loyalty, after all, had been drummed into him from a very young age.

Zachariah’s lip curled slightly in distaste at his chosen word, but he said nothing other than “Very well. I shall inform him. Go prepare yourself.”

….

Castiel waited by the window in one of the Palace’s many plush rooms. It was nighttime, which meant that the window was open, letting in the lights and sounds of the city below. He looked down from it as if from a gilded cage; he had little opportunity to go outside to walk the streets, during either night or day. Zachariah usually kept him well-watched and too busy to have time to go out and live the life he looked down at from the thick, reinforced windows. No, he lived in the plush interiors of the Palace, well cared for – a bird in a gilded cage. Dean was set to arrive any minute, and he was unsure what he’d expect when he walked in, so Castiel just stood by the window, ready to turn and run the minute he walked in the door, and trying to see the details of the city below him.

He heard the door close quietly behind him and turned.

He gasped. The vampire that walked in was one of the most beautiful people that Castiel had ever seen. He had bright green eyes, golden, freckled skin (vampires couldn’t go out in the sun, but their appearance also didn’t change from when they were turned, meaning that “Dean” had kept his youthful beauty). He looked young, too – barely thirty, and somehow Castiel felt that his real age wasn’t much beyond that. There was something about him – a youth, a kindness – that made him seem almost human.

Dean smiled, at once satisfied and predatory, thinking that perhaps Castiel was gasping in fear. Castiel used that to his advantage, backing away like a surprised victim. Dean followed him, a slow, relaxed gait, that of a predator who’s going to play with his prey because he knows it won’t go anywhere.

Castiel turned to run. The room was large, with comfortable but sparse furniture, and he made it a few feet before he felt Dean right behind him. He’d moved with the preternatural speed of his kind, and seized Castiel from behind. Castiel expected a blow from Dean, something from the vampire to show him he wasn’t supposed to struggle, to punish him for doing it even though that’s exactly what Dean asked for, but it didn’t come.

So Castiel resisted. He tried to catch Dean off balance. He jabbed him with an elbow, earning a slight “oof!” from Dean. He kicked him in the leg, and eventually got him off balance enough that his grip slackened – allowing Castiel to run a few more feet until Dean caught up with him again. This time Dean turned him around, and again he fought, pounding his fists against Dean’s chest and trying to pull away, but Dean’s grip was like iron. The position also forced him to look up at Dean, and to see that face – it was just as beautiful up close.

“Gotcha,” he said almost – playfully?

He was strong, like all vampires; his chest seemed to be made of iron (or marble), and each of Castiel’s jabs did almost nothing except tell him how well-formed Dean was beneath his shirt. He was breathless now, running out of the strength to fight, and he looked up at Dean’s face, wondering what he’d do. Would Dean hit him? Punish him for trying to escape? But Dean did nothing except hold him tightly, and Castiel felt like a captive bird, flapping its wings in a vain attempt to escape from a sure and practiced grip.

“Let me go!” Castiel demanded, testing the waters. Dean chuckled.

“No.”

Castiel kicked him again, twisted and turned, and with a valiant effort, ran for the door. Dean caught up to him just as he placed a hand on the handle, forcing him against the door. The breath went out of his body with the force of it, and Dean pressed himself behind Castiel, holding him still with his own body. It was strangely comfortable, with Dean holding him there, his warmth wrapped around Castiel.

“This time,” he said, “you’re not going anywhere.” Castiel felt Dean’s grip on his hands again, that iron strength pitting his arms behind his back as another arm bared his neck. He stilled, and Dean hummed in approval. Castiel could feel his breath on the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable bite.

He’d been bitten countless times, and this was no different – the sharp pain of fangs sinking into his artery, then the numbness that spread from the bite as the vampire drank, until it weakened him so that he couldn’t resist if he wanted to. Dean seemed to expect it. The iron grip was removed from his hands, and he felt Dean’s arms wrap around his torso gently, holding him up. In fact, Castiel realized, despite Dean’s awesome strength, he was holding him as if he was aware that the body in front of him was human – and as if he cared. He used just enough strength to hold him still – but no more.

Castiel knew never to trust a vampire, but this one actually held him like a lover as he drank, with gentleness and strength at the same time. When he felt Castiel weakening, he withdrew his fangs, and Castiel blinked in surprise before the world spun. In his weakened state, it had taken him a couple of seconds to realize that Dean had picked him up and was carrying him – bridal style- towards the bed, where he laid him out. He undressed Castiel completely before climbing on top.

Castiel didn’t know what to do. Did Dean want him to struggle again? He didn’t think so; Dean seemed content with him as is, so he spread his legs obligingly. Dean hummed appreciatively before sinking into him. “Oh!” Castiel gasped, surprised not at the intrusion but the gentleness with which Dean entered into his body. A second later, his mouth was at Castiel’s neck, licking up the blood and then drinking from the wound he’d made. They half-sat, half-lay on the bed, Dean’s arms around him, holding him up and on his cock as he fucked Castiel – with excruciating slowness at first – and drank from him. For a terrifying second, Castiel thought he was going to fall, but Dean’s arms were around him, strong and reassuring, holding him up, but still with a gentleness and care clearly shown for his weaker, human body.

Dean continued to move, slowly still, as if he were intent on drawing this out, and to his surprise, Castiel felt himself hardening from the pleasure of it. He hadn’t even thought about becoming aroused, but Dean’s arms around him, Dean’s gentleness, they all lulled Castiel into a complacency in which his body responded.

Then Dean started moving faster, and Castiel let out several more surprised “oh!”s. It felt _good._ Even with the weakness in his limbs from blood loss, he felt good. He didn’t want Dean to stop, so he clung to the man – the vampire, wrapping his legs and arms around him, trying to bring him close. Dean let out a contented hum somewhere around his neck and lowered him down to the bed until they were horizontal.

Castiel let his eyes flutter closed. It all just felt so _good,_ the contrast of the contentment and comfortable drowsiness spreading through him while Dean drank, and the exhilaration of the way Dean moved inside him. He sped up – faster – faster – until every nerve and muscle in Castiel’s weakened body felt taut as a violin string, on the brink of something – a weakness or an ecstasy, he didn’t know. He just knew that Dean was inside him, hitting the right spot every time, sending a breathless “oh!” out of him with every thrust, and Castiel’s body didn’t know what to do, whether to surrender to the lethargy claiming him or to follow Dean to untold heights.

His body decided for him. With a final gasp, he arched off the bed in bliss before the pleasure and the blood loss whited out his senses, plunging him into darkness.

“Castiel? Castiel!” He heard Dean’s voice first, full of fear and concern, and let his eyes flutter open. Dean was above him, looking concerned. “Are you all right? What happened? Did I take too much?”

“I – “ Castiel looked down, ashamed. He was still coming back to consciousness, the world hazy around him except for Dean’s face, but he remembered clearly what had happened. Dean inside him, how it had felt so good, the way he’d – _oh._ The way he’d come. And, judging from the come he felt trickling between his legs, so had Dean.

“I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t supposed to – “ he started to apologize.

“Cas, _what happened?_ ” Dean asked, equal parts anger and concern.

Castiel felt his face redden.

“I…I don’t know if you wanted me to come, but I – I couldn’t help it,” he confessed. Dean looked down at him, taking in the mess he’d made, then Castiel’s face, and his face showed surprise.

“You – liked that?” He asked. “What I did, you – “

“Yes.” He admitted, feeling his face flame in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It’s never happened before- “

“Hey. It’s okay,” Dean said, softly, soothing. “I’m not mad. I’m just – surprised. I didn’t think you’d like it that much.”

Castiel tried to sit up. He still felt weak from the combined blood loss and orgasm, and Dean’s hand was on his shoulder instantly.

“I don’t usually,” Castiel confessed. He knew he wasn’t supposed to talk to clients about other sessions, but he couldn’t help it. Dean radiated concern and kindness, and Castiel wanted to explain. “But this time I did. I couldn’t help myself.”

To his surprise, Dean smiled.

“That means we both enjoyed ourselves.”

He bit his wrist and offered it to Cas. “Here, drink.” Castiel took his hand obediently, drawing in several drops of blood before Dean’s wrist healed before his eyes. Vampire blood had healing properties, if taken in the proper dose. Usually, Zachariah or one of the others administered it after each “session,” to heal him of any injuries and make sure he was ready for the next one.

He’d never had a client willingly give him blood afterwards. To them, a weakened, bleeding human was someone else’s mess to clean up.

Instantly, he felt the bite at his neck heal, and strength return to his limbs. Already he felt fortified and awakened, but he’d still need time to return back to normal. Dean seemed to realize that – the comforting hand was back on his shoulder. “Rest,” he said.

“What about you?” Castiel asked.

“I’ll stay with you, if you’ll let me.”

“Please,” Castiel said, quite honestly.

Then Dean was undressing, climbing into bed with Castiel and pulling him close.

“Come here,” he said. “Rest.”

Castiel was so surprised he let himself be scooped up by Dean’s arms and snuggled into them. He’d never been held like this before. What did they call it? Cuddling? Spooning? It was something lovers did after making love, but none of his clients were lovers, and what they did was certainly not making love.

Except with Dean. With Dean, Castiel didn’t know. He’d met the man – the vampire, Castiel reminded himself, because somehow he kept forgetting- barely half an hour ago, and already he was drawn to him. If “met” was even the right word, when all he knew was a name. But still. It felt different. Comfortable. Safe.

Suddenly a thought came to him – had Dean glamoured him? But that was against club policies, and besides, there were measures taken against it within the building – spells and wards. Zachariah might not care about his employees much, but he did take security seriously. No, whatever it was that drew him to Dean, whatever made this vampire seem human to him, it wasn’t glamouring. It was the gentleness of his touches, the concern in his eyes, Dean’s arms around him, as if he wanted to do more than just take.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, suddenly daring.

“Doing what?”

“Taking care of me,” Castiel explained.

He felt the mattress shift as Dean rose up on one elbow. His forehead was scrunched in confusion. “I just drank half of your blood and you passed out. Why wouldn’t I take care of you?”

Castiel didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to, so he merely let Dean hold him.

They lay in a comfortable silence. Castiel knew they would stay here as long as Dean desired – he was paying, after all – and he hoped that Dean would hold him safe and close for a long time. Hold him in his arms, protecting Castiel from whatever client would have him next.

But all good things come to an end, and eventually Dean asked, “better now?” Reluctantly, Castiel nodded.

“Good.” The mattress dipped again as Dean sat up. He was naked now, and the moonlight and city lights fell onto his body, which, as Castiel suspected, was well-formed and shapely. He could see freckles on the skin – Dean had evidently spent a lot of time in the sun before he’d been turned. There were a few faint scars, too, here and there, which even vampire blood had been unable to heal, and Castiel wondered where they came from, but he didn’t ask. He admired for the few precious seconds before Dean rose and began to dress.

Reluctantly, he slipped off the bed, going for his own clothes. When Dean was fully dressed, he turned around, looking shy.

“Well, that was – good,” he said. “I, uh- would you like it if I came back?” he asked.

Castiel opened his mouth in surprise. No one had ever asked him that, either.

“Yes,” he admitted honestly. “Please,” he added, because Dean had looked skeptical.

A smile broke out on Dean’s face. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you, Cas.”

And with that, Dean walked out.

Castiel sat on the bed in silence, gathering himself. He knew that in a few minutes Samandriel would show up to take care of him and ensure that he was suitable for the next client, but for a few minutes, he sat blissfully in the darkness, replaying what had just happened. Dean’s arms around him, strong at first when they were play-fighting, then gentler as Dean satisfied himself. The brightness of his eyes. The concern in his face – the first thing Castiel had seen when he opened his eyes.

For the first time in a very long time, Castiel smiled a real smile.

….

Castiel lay still in the bed, pretending to sleep. The window was open, the moonlight falling onto the bed and making it glow, and the sounds of the city floated up gently.

It was Thursday night, Dean’s regular time, and Dean had been quite specific with his instructions again – and they were just as strange this time as they were the last. His heart beat faster, wondering if this time would be at all like the last, if he would feel Dean’s gentle hands on him again –

He’d been so lost in thoughts, wondering, hoping anxiously, that he didn’t hear Dean enter, swiftly and silently. He only knew the vampire was behind him when the bed dipped. He closed his eyes, trying to force his breaths into steadiness, lying as still as he could. Behind him, Dean had taken off most of his clothes, and he felt a body press against him from behind while a hand drew down his blanket carefully. He shifted, making a contented sound, forcing his eyes to stay closed. His body was thrilling with anticipation, every fiber of his body caught between the thrill of expectation and curiosity. He could feel Dean’s breaths on the back of his neck, the softest puffs of air tickling him, the softness of their touch edging him into a delicious sense of excitement Staying still was starting to become a delicious agony, waiting for the moment that Dean would do something.

Dean’s hand tangled in his hair, the other running over the planes of his skin, before Dean bent over him and finally bit his neck. He let out a sharp gasp, as if he were an unsuspecting human suddenly awakened by a vampire’s bite, and tried to move. In response, the hand in his hair and the other one on his arm tightened, holding him still effortlessly. He tried to break away, and in response, Dean’s arms wrapped around him, a vice-like lover’s embrace, and the hand in his hair dragged his head back. He stilled, fluttering his eyes and letting out soft breathless sounds which, he realized, were utterly sincere. His body thrilled with Dean’s touches, strong without being cruel, eager to give in to them.

Again he hardened, unexpectedly, just from Dean’s gentle strength and the feel of his lips, drinking slowly and leisurely from Castiel’s pulsing artery. As if in response, Dean shifted, finding Castiel’s readied opening and sinking into it with a sigh. Castiel let out a gasp, louder this time, at the feeling of being filled with Dean. His hand twitched, longing to touch his cock, to give himself the release he longed for, but he didn’t dare. Instead, before he knew it, Dean’s hand lost no time moving across his skin and seizing his cock in a sure, practiced hand.

Dean’s hand moved in tandem with his body, his cock hitting the perfect spot at the perfect angle, each thrust followed by a practiced movement of the hand that showered attention on Castiel’s erection, coaxing an orgasm from it with care and expertise. His gasps were interspersed with moans now, entirely uncontrolled, tumbling from his lips one after the other as Dean moved behind him. The blood still flowed from his neck, onto his skin, a few drops falling onto the snow-white sheets. Dean drank slower this time than the last, as if he wanted to savor every drop. Still, Castiel felt himself weakening inevitably at the loss of blood, and he sank into the comfort of Dean’s arms, wrapped around him. He felt entirely surrounded by Dean’s body, filled with nothing but Dean, giving to Dean. Everything was Dean, and it felt like bliss.

Dean’s hand and body moved faster, bringing him closer and closer to his climax and taking Castiel with him. Dean’s lips left his neck, leaving him bleeding and weakened, but in that blissful way in which he could surrender himself to Dean’s ministrations. He fluttered his eyes closed, sinking into a blissful void in which nothing existed but Dean’s body behind him and the hand on his cock. He was surprised he still had the strength to orgasm, but he did, spilling himself over Dean’s hand and the sheet in what felt like the best orgasm he’d ever had. Dean wasn’t far behind, filling Castiel with a satisfied groan before lying back, his arms still around Castiel.

Castiel remained still, not daring to move lest his movements scare Dean away, taking those warm comforting arms from around him. But Dean remained where he was, arms wrapped tightly around him, and finally Castiel dared to shift, turning around to finally glimpse Dean again.

Dean was as beautiful as ever, moonlight falling on his fair skin, casting his face into a place of light and shadow, a chiaroscuro worthy of the Italian masters. Dean turned his head, meeting Castiel’s eyes, and the breath caught in Castiel’s throat at the sight of them, lit with a kindness that could not be faked.

“You alright?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded.

“Good.” Dean cleared his throat. “I, uh – I tried to take less this time. I didn’t want you to…you know. Pass out.”

Castiel smiled. “I told you last time, I didn’t faint from blood loss.”

“yeah, yeah, I know, I gave you an orgasm that blew your mind,” Dean said, his tone suddenly all too playful and joking. “Still, here.” He sat up slightly, biting his wrist and offering it to Castiel. Gaping, Castiel took it, licking the few drops of blood. He’d tasted vampire blood often, but there was something special about the taste of Dean’s, perhaps because it came straight from his veins rather than a carefully labelled bottle.

Or maybe, Castiel thought, he was just smitten with kindness.

But he didn’t much care. Dean lay beside him, relaxed, limbs spread nonchalantly on the luxurious bed, and Castiel was drawn to him as to a magnet. Again the thought of glamouring bubbled up, and again he reminded himself that it was impossible here – and besides, why would Dean glamour him just to be kind to him? Reassured by the thought, he drew towards Dean’s beckoning body, drinking in the warmth and comfort it offered, the same way Dean had drunk from his vein. He knew it wouldn’t be enough – nothing could be enough, but perhaps he could spend enough minutes by Dean’s side tonight to make the days bearable until he came again.

“So, you’re the cuddling type, aren’t you?” Dean asked absently.

“I – “ he didn’t know what to answer. But Dean laughed and drew him closer. “You were so good tonight, Cas. Tell me you liked it too.”

“I did,” Cas admitted.

“Did you really?” Dean asked. “Tell me the truth or I’ll have to glamour it out of you.”

Castiel tilted his eyes up, taking in the playful smile on Dean’s features. “You can’t glamour anyone in here,” he pointed out.

“I know. It’s a joke, Cas.”

“Oh,” Castiel said in confusion.

Dean laughed again, full and lively. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“I, uh-“ Castiel fumbled for words. “I’ve never been informed of the fact.”

“Well, somebody should’ve told you.”

“As are you,” Castiel responded. “You are also – “cute,” and pleasing to be with.”

It was Dean’s turn to redden and say haltingly, “Oh. Well, thanks, I guess.”

“By all means. I don’t suppose a deadly and immortal creature such as you has been called that before.”

“Nah, not really. I’m not exactly one of those sparkly vegetarian vampire types.”

Castiel squinted, confused, and Dean chuckled. “ _Twilight_? Sparkling vampires? It’s a shit story, but everyone’s _heard_ of it.”

“I haven’t.”

“ _Dude._ ” Dean started to sit up, looking suddenly restless and excited as he launched into an explanation. “Okay, so there’s this really shitty series of books, mostly for teen girls, about these vampires that sparkle in the sun and only drink blood from animals. It’s fucking bullshit,” he added, impassioned.

“Are there a lot of books written about – vampires? They must all be inaccurate.”

“Yeah, most of them are bullshit. Some vampires even tried suing Meyer – that’s the author – for slander once. It was kind of hilarious.” Dean smiled at the memory, looking entertained.

“What was the verdict?” Castiel asked, intrigued.

“Well, the court ruled that Meyer wrote her books before we all, uh, came out of the coffin. Still, there’s a lot of people that think most of the books about vampires should be banned. _Dracula_ and stuff like that. You know, political correctness and all that.”

“Do you think they should be banned?”

Dean shrugged. “I think nobody has the right to tell other people what to think,” he insisted. “Besides, half the shit people write isn’t _that_ inaccurate. We’re kind of all bloodthirsty killers, as much as we pretend we’re not.”

Castiel looked at Dean – really looked – taking in his face, his eyes, his expression, the relaxed sprawl of his limbs. He didn’t look like a bloodthirsty killer. He was the farthest thing from it.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said.

“You don’t know that, Cas,” Dean said quietly, and suddenly all the light-heartedness slipped from the room, and the darkness seemed to weigh on them in the wake of Dean’s comment. Castiel almost regretted saying anything – almost. But if he knew one thing, it was that Dean was too human to be a killer.

“I should go,” Dean said suddenly. Castiel tried to hide his disappointment, but he seemed to fail, because Dean took one look at him and said “I’ll be back next week?” It was somewhere between a question and a statement. Castiel nodded.

“Okay, well, your homework’s to read _Dracula._ Or watch _Nosferatu._ Or something. We need to work on that pop culture knowledge of yours, Cas.”

“I spend a little too much time with vampires on a daily basis to want to read about them, Dean,” Castiel said impetuously. Dean looked at him, examining his expression, before relenting.

“Fine then. Watch _Star Wars,_ or something. Or I’ll be a _very_ angry vampire.”

Castiel smiled. “Yes, Dean.”

….

By the third week, the feeling of anticipation had become almost familiar. He spent the day waiting, wondering what Dean would ask for tonight, until the hour drew closer and he bathed and prepared himself and waited for Zachariah, who would tell him what Dean wanted. Then Samandriel would get him and the room ready, and he would wait for Dean, wondering if this time would be like the last; longing for his gentle touches, becoming progressively more and more on edge as he waited for Dean. Sometimes he wondered if Dean made him wait on purpose, building up anticipation so that he could relish Castiel’s excited responses afterwards.

This time he lay on the bed, one hand cuffed to the headboard with a padded handcuff. His other hand was free – Dean had clearly wanted him to be able to fight back again. But Castiel didn’t want to fight back. Of all of the clients he serviced, Castiel thought with a small touch of bitterness, Dean was the only one he didn’t want to struggle against – and Dean was the only one who wanted him to.

He shifted, counting the seconds passing by with excruciating slowness. Where was Dean?

He was so lost in the thoughts of Dean’s gentle touches that he didn’t notice when Dean stepped silently from the darkness. Castiel breath stilled in surprise. He’d heard only the tiniest sound of movement, and his eyes flicked to Dean, taking him in, drinking in the sight.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said, his words playful but also pointed, his eyes staring intently at Cas’ neck.

“Where – where did you come from?” he asked, not entirely for show, though the fear with which he tried to imbue his voice was entirely fake.

Dean grinned. “Hell,” he said, and pounced. He moved with the grace of a majestic animal, a tiger or a lion pursuing their prey, and Castiel jerked against his restraint in surprise. Dean was on him within a second, firm, sure hands holding him down as he tried to move helplessly against them.

“Gotcha.” Dean grinned again, his smile a combination of playful and predatory.

“Please,” Castiel murmured. _Please, bite me, take me,_ he meant. _Please, have mercy,_ he hoped Dean would hear, though he wasn’t sure what he meant by “mercy.”

Dean leaned close, his mouth between Castiel’s ear and his neck. “Please what?” he asked.

He looked up into Dean’s eyes, their emerald green entirely hidden by a predatory redness.

“Have mercy,” he managed, still not knowing what he meant by the words.

“Don’t worry, you’ll live,” Dean reassured him, and sank his fangs into Castiel’s neck.

Castiel didn’t struggle as Dean pressed his wrists to the bed firmly. Dean held him tightly, his touch saying _mine,_ and Castiel felt safe. If he was Dean’s, he could be no one else’s; if Dean claimed him, then no other vampire could touch him, no other vampire could drink from him. If Dean held him in his arms and never let go, he would be safe –

“Cas?”

He opened his eyes and realized that he _was_ struggling – struggling to wrap his arms around Dean, to pull him closer, to hold as he was being held. Dean had let him go, but he crouched over Castiel with concern.

“Oh,” he said, confused. “I’m sorry – “

“Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?”

Castiel shook his head adamantly. “No, don’t stop. Please.”

Dean looked disbelieving. “You were struggling,” he pointed out.

“I wanted to touch you,” Castiel admitted reluctantly.

“Oh.” Dean looked taken aback. “If that’s what you want.” He reached over to the handcuff, undoing it with a quick flick of the wrist.

In response, Castiel ran his hands up Dean’s torso. “It is.” He pulled Dean closer, guiding him to the bleeding wound at his neck. He tilted his head as if in offering, and Dean let himself be guided by Castiel’s hands, lowering his head obediently to suck at his neck.

Castiel touched Dean with wonder. It was the first time he had a chance to really touch, to explore the beautiful body above him. He traced the smooth planes of his chest and shoulders, ran gentle hands up his back, and then wrapped his entire body around Dean’s. He heard Dean groan in response, Dean’s hardness meeting his. With sudden daring, he moved against Dean, grinding their bodies together, and Dean responded, moving their bodies together in tandem.

But it wasn’t enough for either of them. Wrapped as they were around each other, it didn’t feel complete until Dean sank into him, completing a perfect cycle – his cock inside Castiel’s body, Castiel’s blood in his. Doubly intertwined, as Dean moved within him, gently and skillfully. And when they had both climaxed, they sank into the mattress in a carefully choreographed movement, still entwined with each other, their breaths and their lips mingling. They stayed like that, two in one, until the minutes, trickling past one by one, forced them apart until the next time.

….

After that, they slowly fell into a pattern. Dean no longer came up with various scenarios, and no handcuffs reappeared. Instead, Castiel waited for Dean, lost in thought, until the vampire snuck up silently behind him, wrapping his arms around Castiel, who shuddered in surprise pleasure. “Gotcha,” he’d murmur, and plant kisses on Castiel’s neck before sinking his fangs in.

Castiel moaned, his head thrown back, falling into an ecstatic surrender in Dean’s arms. The sounds always made Dean harden, and it was only moments later that his cock would press against Castiel’s entrance, filling him, while Dean’s hand skillfully drew out his climax. And when he finished, Dean’s arms always held him steady, offered him blood, and carried him to the bed, where they lay together, talking, sharing their lives as they’d shared their bodies.

….

One day, Castiel finally dared to ask him. Well, almost.

They lay as they always did – Dean satisfied and alert, Castiel in a blissful state of lethargy – on their bed, speaking lightheartedly of this and that.

“How did you become – “ he managed to get out before he broke off.

“A vampire?” Dean supplied helpfully.

He was silent for a moment, and Cas thought he wouldn’t answer, but he said, softly, “my brother.”

“Your brother turned you?” he asked.

“What? No! It’s… it’s complicated.” Dean sighed, and Castiel almost regretted asking. But he wanted to know Dean, to know how he had become who he was – and why, as a vampire, he was still so human.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” Dean explained, and Castiel sucked in his breath in shock. The Winchesters were famous – the best hunters in the United States. Even here, secluded and kept from the world, Castiel had heard of them.

“We tracked down and killed monsters,” Dean explained. “Demons, vampires who killed humans, that kind of thing. We were the best. Deadly, when we needed to be, and word got around.”

Dean paused. Castiel tried to stay as still as he could, listening with rapt attention.

“There was a vampire…Azazel. He was powerful – a vampire prince, almost. Head of the largest territory in the U.S.”

Castiel had heard of him too – barely. Vampires had divided the country into territories, each territory policed by a “prince” or leader who took care of vampire matters, punished those who killed or disobeyed…

“Azazel was dying, and he needed someone to succeed him, and he wanted that to be Sam,” Dean continued. His eyes were far away, staring at nothing, unable to meet Castiel’s glance. “He’d heard of our reputation, and he wanted one of the Winchesters. I dunno why he wanted Sam, but the guy was a creep, so who knows what went on in his head? Anyway, he came after us and wouldn’t stop.  He even killed our dad.”

Dean paused again, and Castiel turned towards him. He still didn’t dare say a word, and he also didn’t dare touch Dean with the comforting hand he wanted to offer, lest Dean got scared away like a skittish horse and stopped talking. But Dean was absently tracing a scar on his shoulder, his eyes somewhere far away, almost as if he’d forgotten Cas was there.

“He caught up with us, finally. We were surrounded – we didn’t have a chance. They were about to turn Sam, and I begged to take his place. I told them I was a Winchester too, and I could rule and kill just as well as Sam. And, well, they agreed. They let Sam go and turned me instead.”

“And did you take Azazel’s place?” Cas asked.

Dean laughed, mirthlessly. “When Azazel died, one of his lieutenants, Alistair, staged a coup. Took his place. Alistair is one of those people that’ll screw with your mind until you’re begging him to torture you. He manipulated and built up a reputation, so when he took Azazel’s place, nobody dared to fight him.”

“Not even you?” Castiel wanted to ask, but he didn’t. Dean seemed to read it in his eyes, though. He looked down, ashamed. “He threatened Sam. Said if I tried anything, if he died, his lieutenants would find and kill Sam. So I worked for him. I did his bidding. I killed vampires who disobeyed him. I even tortured some for him.”

Dean was staring at the ceiling now, pointedly refusing to look at Cas.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Cas said softly. He couldn’t imagine Dean, the man he knew, torturing or hurting anyone. It just wasn’t Dean. Perhaps he could be deadly if he needed to be, but Castiel had only ever known gentleness and kindness at his hands. And when he bled at Dean’s hands, Dean always took care of him afterwards.

“Doesn’t make it right,” Dean said curtly, turning away.

The silence stretched taut between them, keeping them both still and wordless. Castiel didn’t dare to ask what had happened to Azazel, how it had ended, even though he burned with the desire to know.

“Sam saved me,” Dean admitted finally. “Made some powerful friends, drank lots of vampire blood, until he took them on. We brought down Azazel and his whole cohort with him, and I took his place. Tried to fix all this shit he’d done.” Like a sunrise, a smile spread across Dean’s face as he spoke of Sam. “Sam’s always found a way out.”

“You care about him,” Cas said.

“More than anything in the world.” It was a rare statement of utter honestly, said into the dark of the room, and Castiel felt honored by the words Dean offered.

“What does Sam do now?” he inquired.

“Sammy went and got himself a normal, apple-pie life. Found himself a girl named Jess and married her, and now he’s a hotshot lawyer who takes cases for vampires and other supernatural creatures that get screwed over by the laws.”

“Really?” Cas asked, his curiosity piqued. “There’s laws for – “

“People like me?” Dean interrupted. “Yeah. A few. So that we can legally obtain and drink blood, and be considered citizens, shit like that. Technically we can marry humans, too, though there’s a few states that are trying to make that illegal.”

“What about laws for humans?” Cas inquired. “In case a – a supernatural creature of some kind harms them?”

Dean rose up onto his elbow to look at Cas. “Are you asking for a friend or is this personal, Cas?”

“It’s not – I was just curious,” Cas said, fumbling for words.

“Are you getting hurt here, Cas?” Dean asked, his eyes filled with concern, and what was Cas supposed to say? If Zachariah got an inkling of half the things Cas wanted to say to Dean, he’d have his head.

“Everything here is negotiated and consensual, Dean,” Cas said. It was the company line, and it meant little to him or most of the others here, but Dean didn’t have to know that.

Except that Dean looked unconvinced. “There’s gotta be a reason you asked, Cas,” he insisted.

Cas sighed. “Sometimes some of the clients go…far. I’ve seen what they’ve done to some of the others,” he admitted. It wasn’t an outright lie.

Dean still looked unconvinced, but he didn’t press the point – afraid, perhaps, that Castiel would clam up.

“There are a few,” he admitted. “Specifying that murder by blood-drinking is still murder, but…vampires aren’t human. Laws are written for humans, and we’re different, so nobody really knows how to incorporate us into the laws.”

“I see,” Castiel said quietly.

“Hey,” Dean said, his hand on Castiel’s chin. “If anyone hurts you – hurts you bad – tell me, okay?”

Castiel nodded reluctantly. He hated lying to Dean.

“Good. And I’ll talk to Sam,” he promised.

Castiel said nothing. What could he say?

But Dean’s words stayed with him after he’d left, Dean’s offer of protection playing in his mind again and again.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was Thursday night again, and Castiel was, as usual, filled with anticipation. Dean would come soon. In the meantime, he sat recovering, waiting for the vampire blood to do its magic and heal the damage of Lilith ractically flaying the skin from his back. He still had a few hours, by his reckoning, when Dean barged into the room, opening the door so forcefully that it nearly flew off its hinges. His eyes were blood-red and his expression looked as if he wanted to massacre everyone who came near him.

“Dean?” Castiel asked in shock.

“Who hurt you?” Dean demanded angrily.

“What?” Castiel asked, utterly discombobulated.

“Tell me who hurt you.”

“I- how do you- “

“I felt your pain. Tell me who did it so I can tear them limb from limb.”

Castiel’s mouth fell open.

“You – you felt –“

“Who?” Dean interrupted. His eyes, normally so green, reddened with bloodlust. And it wasn’t for Castiel’s blood.

Castiel swallowed. “A client,” he admitted. “It was what they paid for, Dean.”

Dean refused to back down. “They paid to hurt you? I asked you if you were getting hurt here and you told me you weren’t, Cas.” He still sounded angry, and for the first time Castiel thought some of that anger might be directed at him.

He lowered his eyes, unable to meet Dean’s gaze.

“My clients have a variety of demands. Some just drink or…fuck. Some, like you, ask for something more …specific.”

“You will tell me exactly what they did to you, and who it was, and I will paint the walls with their blood.”

Castiel sighed. “Dean, I don’t need you to avenge me, and I certainly don’t need you to murder for me.”

In response, Dean growled, an inhuman sound deep in his throat.

“Dean, please. It’s all right. It’s over. It’s in the past. I’m healed now. It doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t like others touching you, and now they hurt you,” Dean finally said. “I felt it, Cas. I felt you bleed. I felt you wish it was over.”

“Some vampires have…how does one say it? More kinky predilections, Dean.”

“And you agree to this?”

Castiel shrugged. “I don’t have much choice. The clients here tend to find me desirable, and I do what they wish and what Zachariah tells me to.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Dean’s eyes had turned completely red by now; the red of a savage, the red of an animal seeking its prey, full of bloodlust and anger. If that had been any other vampire, he’d be running for his life.

He blinked, and those red eyes were inches from his. Castiel held very still.

“You… do what they wish,” Dean repeated, and there was none of the warmth and affection that had tinged Dean’s anger. It was all just monstrous rage.

“Yes. They want me willing, just like you did.”

It was also the wrong thing to say.

“So it was all an act, was it? Your willingness? Every single time you asked me to come back and fluttered your pretty eyes and told me how much you wanted it, were you actually willing or were you just doing what you were told? Pretending to be willing?”

Castiel shook his head frantically, realizing the mistake of what he’d said. “I wanted you,” he insisted. “When you asked me if I wanted you to come back, I said yes because I did. I do. I always wanted you, Dean.”

“And the first time?” Dean demanded. “They told me that you’re willing, but you’re just afraid of what they would do to you if you weren’t, aren’t you? When you were fighting me that first night, that was real fear, wasn’t it? That if you didn’t please me exactly the way I wanted to, I’d hurt you? You lied, Cas. You said you were fine. You said nobody was hurting you. You said you liked it, Cas.” Dean’s voice broke on the last phrase, and it broke Castiel’s heart. 

“You were different,” he insisted, adamantly. “None of the others ever wanted me to fight. They always wanted me to submit. I knew you were different the minute you walked in the door. You wanted me to fight you rather than just being a thing for you to drink from and fuck.”

But he could tell he’d lost Dean. The man before him was all inhuman fury and savage bloodlust.

“It was a damn good act, Cas,” Dean said, his voice cold like Cas had never heard it before. “ I was just like one of your other clients, wasn’t I? I paid and you did what I wanted. You’re good at that, Cas, figuring out what someone wants and giving it to them. And then you just shrug it off and move on and don’t think about it.”

“Dean, it wasn’t an act – “ he pleaded.

“Yeah. It was a damn good one. I bet you can even come on command, can’t you?”

“I – “

“Can’t you?”

“Yes,” Castiel admitted. “But that’s not what happened. I wanted – “

“Nah. You’re just a liar who’s really good at pretending he cares.”

And with those words, Dean stormed out, leaving Castiel still and wordless.

…..

Dean strolled angrily through downtown. He could hear laughter from the bars around him, people flirting and downing cocktails and Tru Blood. Somewhere in back alleys, he heard gasps, from either sex or fangbangers feeding their vampires. They were all so…complacent, pretending it was normal, to offer their necks and their lives to predators. Pretending it was normal, for them to all live in the same society, as if the people walking among the humans weren’t bloodthirsty monsters.

He’d lived a dream, the past few months with Cas. Every time he came to Cas, he found someone willing – or at least, someone he’d thought was willing, who thought he was more than his fangs and his lust for blood. Who smiled, and listened to him, with his eyes crinkling at the corners, while Dean talked about Sam and himself. And it had lasted long enough for Dean to start believing it was real. That Cas actually wanted him there, that he wasn’t lying to the monster he shared his bed with.

Apparently the bastard did whatever a monster demanded of him, whether it was baring his neck or letting them flog him until he bled.

Or pretending to care, because he knew that’s what Dean wanted. Pretending the monster was a man.

He was so lost in thought he hadn’t realized where he was going, or noticed the streets around him quieting as he passed the bars and restaurants. There were few streetlights here, and more alleyways, filled with trashcans and fog.It was quiet, except for the screams he suddenly heard. At first he thought it was another fangbanger, having some drunken fun, but the screams continued. He turned a corner just in time to see a woman fighting, trying to break free, as a vampire held her. “Please,” she begged, but the vampire ignored her protests, sinking fangs into her neck even as she pleaded. Dean stepped forward, wanting to help. The vampire looked up, noticed him, and was gone in the blink of an eye, taking the screaming, helpless girl with him.

Dean stood, frozen.

That was what he’d asked Castiel to act out, the first night. That was what he wanted Castiel to pretend was happening, so he didn’t have to do the real thing. He’d paid Cas to fight so that he didn’t have to take some real, helpless human.

Except that Castiel had probably been as unwilling as the poor girl in the alleyway. One who was so much better than hiding it, but that didn’t change the true nature of who he was or what they did. He was just like all the other vampires – a monster who took what he wanted, and it didn’t matter if there were cameras and sensors and money exchanged. He was still a blood-drinking fiend, and Castiel a human who had no choice.

How could he have thought Castiel believed him to be different?

What he’d just seen in the alley was who he was. It was what he’d wanted, the first night he’d come to Cas. He’d wanted to feel a helpless human struggle in his arms and drink their blood, and all of Cas’ smiles and kindness couldn’t wash away that stain of what he was, or the fact that he could never have the dream he’d lived for the past few weeks. He knew his true nature – he’d seen it reflected in those shadowy figures in the alleyway. He was a monster, and a fool for thinking Castiel would believe otherwise.

Castiel had been right not to care about him.

And even if – and it’s an if he wasn’t willing to even consider right now – there was even a part of Castiel that had truly meant his words and his actions, so much the worse. Because Castiel shouldn’t trust a man – a monster – like him. Castiel had been right not to care, because if there was even the slight part of him that did care for him, that had been honest, that part needed to be destroyed – for his own good.

Slowly, numbly, he walked home, but when he climbed into his coffin, he couldn’t sleep. The sight of the screaming girl – dead now, probably – kept coming back to him, except that instead of her face he kept seeing Castiel’s.

…

When he awoke the next night, he’d made up his mind. He rose and dressed with determination before making his way downtown. Castiel wouldn’t be expecting him, but that was all for the better. And if Castiel was entertaining other clients tonight, that was for the better too. He’d wait – even though angry vampires don’t like to wait.

When he entered, Zachariah quickly hid his surprise with a sickly-sweet smile, all traces of his displeasure from last night (he’d insisted Dean pay for “damage”) utterly gone. “Mr. Winchester,” he said, his voice like poisoned honey. “What can we do for you today?”

“Castiel. I want him tonight,” Dean demanded brusquely.

“Ah. I had given him the night off, but perhaps we can make an exception….” He trailed off, the sentence really a demand that hung in the air.

Dean took his wallet out of his pocket, throwing several large bills at Zachariah dismissively. “I think this should be ample compensation for interrupting Castiel’s night of relaxation,” he said.

Zachariah carefully counted the bills, handing them off to a lackey and putting on another sickly smile. “Of course. Do you have any particular requests for tonight?”

“Nothing special, no,” Dean answered. If Zachariah was surprised, he hid it well.

…

Castiel awaited Dean with excitement and more than a hint of trepidation. Dean had never come on a night other than their scheduled one, and he’d certainly never come on a night off. He’d been angry last night, so angry, and Castiel wondered nervously how he would convince Dean that he was wrong. That Dean could trust him. What if he couldn’t?

“Heya, Cas.” The words made him jump, and he turned. It was almost like the first night – Dean standing in the doorway, and Castiel wondering what to expect. Zachariah had given him no instructions – perhaps that meant that Dean just desired the usual.

“Dean,” he breathed.

Dean smiled, and his smile, for the first time, looked cruel. Castiel hadn’t known Dean could smile like that.

“My favorite human,” he said, in a voice that didn’t sound like his own. “Waiting to service me.”

He marched over to Castiel, grabbing him unceremoniously and bringing him close. Castiel clung to him out of habit, but it was unnecessary – Dean’s grip was strong and sure and firm.

Painfully so.

“Dean?” he asked, unsure this time.

He was met with silence, followed by sharp fangs sinking into his skin.

He tilted his head obediently, offering Dean what he demanded, and stayed still. Perhaps Dean was still angry. Perhaps he needed to get the anger out of his system. It was unlike Dean to act like this, but even vampires could be driven to extremes. Maybe this was one of those extremes.

He was still hoping for that when he felt his legs give way and his vision swim. He felt himself fall, and rather than strong hands holding him up, they pushed him down to the floor. He sank to his knees, and Dean followed quickly, knocking him onto his back and pouncing on him. For the first time with Dean, Castiel felt the rough carpet against his back rather than the soft mattress of the bed.

Dean tore off what few clothes he was wearing and sheathed himself inside Castiel. It was quick, brutal, and unceremonious, and his movements were the same – quick, sharp thrusts, intended to bring Dean the maximum amount of pleasure, as quickly as possible. Still confused, he grabbed for Dean, hoping at least to hold on to him, but with a snarl, Dean pressed his wrists down.

“You’re here to satisfy me, not play at making love,” Dean snarled. Castiel blinked, his confusion deepening.

It was then that he wondered whether Dean would hit him. He never had before, but nevertheless Castiel half-expected the blow. It didn’t come. However, Dean practically ignored him, his face impassive as he made use of Castiel’s body to drive himself to climax.

When he was finished, he withdrew and rose, buttoning himself up until he looked pristine, not a hair out of place. Certainly not as if he’d just reached the heights of pleasure.

“That’s all you get from a vampire, human. You should learn that,” Dean said coldly, and walked out, leaving Castiel on the floor, weak and bloody.


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed, then weeks. Dean didn’t return – not that week, nor the next. He didn’t come on their usual night, or any other night. Without him, the days and weeks dragged.

He knelt before a red-headed vampire named Abaddon, and closed his eyes. Abaddon favored what she called “pretty boytoys,” and apparently Cas fit the bill. That’s why he was on his knees now, a vibrator up his ass and a teethed cock cage on his dick, because Abaddon liked to play with her food- and also because she knew nothing about her turned Cas on. That didn’t matter – she could still make him gasp and gulp in air as the sensations flowed over him.

He heard her chuckle, deep and cruel, as she knelt behind him and slid sharp red nails down his chest. “My beautiful boy,” she whispered, and drank.

Cas closed his eyes, trying to shut out all the sensations and think of the one thing that got him through times like this – Dean. He almost managed to forget the sharp pains everywhere in his body, but nothing could make him think that the vampire drinking from him was Dean. Still, he thought of Dean’s green eyes, Dean’s smile, Dean’s warm, gentle hands around him, so different from the claws that held him now.

When Abaddon was done drinking, she left. She never asked him to pleasure her in any way, just left him there, on his knees, in his cock cage and bleeding, and left.

He sighed.

Abaddon was the first of the night; many more would come in the hours between now and dawn, and each would find a creative way to make the blood flow from his body before they drank it. Thankfully, at least Lilith had been banned. She was one of Castiel’s regular customers, and she paid well – which is why Zachariah had tended to overlook her cruelty. But the last time, when she’d whipped Cas’ back until it bled, and then licked the blood, Zachariah had put a foot down. Castiel suspected he wouldn’t have cared much, except that even with vampire blood his back now sported faint scars that might never fade. That, coupled with Dean’s reaction (Castiel had told Zachariah that Dean had been angry about the scars), meant that Lilith was forbidden from returning. For now, at least. She hadn’t been happy about that.

The night still stretched, on and on. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the first rays of the sun fall across the room. No more, for tonight. He slumped, exhausted. Perhaps Zachariah would let him have the next night off. And then another night without Dean, with faceless strangers who treated his body as a bloodbag…

It shouldn’t be so hard. It really shouldn’t. That was how he had lived previously. Obeying Zachariah day to day, pleasing customers, not thinking about the future because there was nothing that he knew but obedience.

Until he’d met Dean. Dean, who’d made him think that there was something more to the world than bloodthirsty monsters and cruel humans who mapped every minute of his life. Dean had given him something to look forward to, a light at the end of the tunnel. A break in the rote obedience of his life.

And now, somehow, he was gone.

…

Castiel sat in the lounge, flipping absently through a copy of Lord of the Rings. Dean had recommended the books to him long ago- part of his crash course in pop culture – and even now that Dean was gone, Castiel flipped through the worn pages, clinging to any memory of Dean that remained. But the words blurred together on the page, and when he blinked, Dean’s face, eyes sparkling and lips smiling, swam before him.

It was at times like this that Castiel longed for his clients, even though they weren’t Dean. He hated them, because they weren’t Dean, but when they cut him until he bled, it took his mind off the endless question of why. What had he done to make Dean leave?

He was so caught in thoughts of Dean that he didn’t catch the name “Winchester” the first few times he heard it, absently, from the TV in the corner of the room. It was only after several minutes that he realized it wasn’t just his thoughts conjuring up Dean.

“Sam Winchester, a leading lawyer in human-vampire relations, announced today that he would attempt to introduce several new measures to keep humans safe from vampire attacks. ‘I believe we should all live together as equals,’ he is quoted as saying. ‘All of us have ways of harming each other, and I do not seek to single out a particular group, but rather to make sure we have laws and protocols for associating with each other safely and punish those who transgress against those ideals of equality.’”

Castiel blinked, staring. It couldn’t be a coincidence – not after Castiel had asked, and Dean said he’d talk to Sam. There was no mention of Dean, but his name was written all over Sam’s words.

So Dean cared. Castiel had never doubted it, but here, in the words of a nameless newscaster, he had the proof that Dean cared. That Dean was as human as Castiel had believed him to be.

So what had he done wrong? How to make it right? His mind spun in circles, the gears endlessly turning in a machine that produced nothing. He had given Dean everything he had – his heart, his soul, his faith – and would give it all again. Why had Dean pushed him away?

He went over their conversation in his head again and again. He knew he’d said the wrong things, things to drive Dean away, but that can’t have been all. He must’ve done something else. Dean had barged in, so angry on his behalf, and suddenly –

How had Dean known what he’d felt? Dean had burst in, claiming that he had felt Castiel’s pain. How was that possible? Castiel had been thinking of Dean, but…

Suddenly, he had a path of action before him. He didn’t know where it would lead – nowhere, possibly – but now he had something more than just existing day to day without Dean.

He showered and cleaned himself and let himself be fed vampire blood from the Palace’s stock to heal all his injuries. It was sunrise, and for the first time he was able to fall asleep without tossing and turning, with a clear path of action. He woke around midday, feeling surprisingly well-rested, and dressed. He usually had a few hours between waking and the first clients, who didn’t like to come in too early and so waited until a couple hours after sunset.

He walked down to the offices. The Palace had a whole floor of them, right below the floor dedicated to the living quarters of the owners and managers and the rooms for their comfort, and right above the floor with the library, pool, and other comforts that their guests rarely partook in – but where Castiel and the others were occasionally allowed when Zachariah deemed that they needed rest and relaxation to “perform their duties adequately.”

Naomi had a comforting corner office, all white and shining like Heaven itself. She functioned mostly as a therapist; he’d been sent to her a few times, when Zachariah deemed that perhaps Castiel wasn’t in the right “mindset” to be doing his work properly. Naomihad talked to him soothingly, reminding him of his duties, talking about family, but unlike Zachariah, it sounded like she actually cared. She knew a lot about vampires – had spent a lot of her life with them – and she knew what they were like. How they could treat you, and how that could make you feel.

He knocked on her door, heart racing, and heard a gentle “come in.” He stepped in. Naomi was behind her desk, working on some paperwork, but she looked up at Castiel and smiled brightly. “Castiel! Come, sit,” she offered, gesturing to the comfy armchairs by the window. “What brings you here?”

Castiel seated himself in the plush seat, and Naomi made her way over. “Is everything all right? I know you’ve had a hard time with a few recent clients. Did you want to talk about it?”

“It’s related,” he admitted.

Facing Naomi, he realized he had no idea how to begin. He felt that he could trust her, wanted to trust her, but he knew all too well that that’s how Zachariah wanted him to feel.

“It’s about one of my clients, Dean.”

“Hmm…yes, Dean. He was a regular, but he hasn’t been back for quite a while. I was told he was angry about the way Lilith treated you?”

Castiel nodded. That’s what he’d told Zachariah.

“Yes, but….that’s not all.” He looked down at his hands, then back up at Naomi with determination.

“The last time he was here, he was angry about what Zachariah did, not because I told him but because he said he’d felt it. He’d said he could feel my pain, even though he wasn’t here when it happened,” Castiel admitted. He scanned Naomi’s face for a reaction; she seemed confused.

“Feel your pain? How?”

“I don’t know. He just came here and said he’d been able to feel what Lilith did, and he was angry about it. How is that possible?”

Naomi cocked her head curiously.

“How long has Dean been coming to see you?” she asked.

“A few months.”

“And when you were with him, what did you do? Did he ever talk about himself or ask about you?’

Castiel nodded. “Yes. He did all the usual things. Drinking. Satisfying himself. But then he’d…he’d stay afterwards, and talk to me. He asked about me and he told me about himself.”

“So you got to know him,” she said, a statement as much as a question.

“Yes,” he admitted. And I fell in love with him, he left unsaid. No one needed to know that.

“Sometimes,” Naomi began, “but very rarely – in fact, rarely enough that we know so little about it – a vampire and a human get to know each other. They form a sort of… bond between them.”

“A bond?”

“Yes. Nothing binding, simply a sort of connection. That’s likely what happened between you and Dean. You got to know each other and… connected… When you were with Lilith, your emotions were heightened,” Naomi explained, tactfully avoiding mentioning exactly which emotions Lilith had heightened. “Perhaps you thought of Dean, or perhaps the heightened emotion was enough on its own to be felt through the bond, and Dean felt it.”

“So we have a bond,” Castiel repeated, trying out the word. It felt strange. He’d never had anything that he could call a bond with anyone. Not really.

“Yes. I don’t know how strong it is, but it requires that both parties care about the other to some extent. Has Dean ever shown you anything like affection?”

Castiel stared at her, at a loss. The simple answer was “yes.” Always. But then there was that last night, the way Dean had fucked him (there was no other word for it) and left him.

“He seemed to,” Castiel admitted.

“That’s not a bad thing, Castiel” Naomi said practically. “Your job is difficult. Having a client care about you is not a bad thing. But be sure not to grow too attached yourself.”

Castiel nodded. He didn’t bother telling her that he hadn’t seen Dean in weeks. Maybe she knew, and tactfully wasn’t mentioning it. In any case, best not to bring it up.

“Do you have to inform Zachariah of this?”

Naomi smiled at him. “Only if I think it’s going to be a problem. I don’t think it is. Do you?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Good. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about, Castiel?”

He shook his head. “That was all. Thank you, Naomi.”

He walked out, his head spinning.

They had a bond. He and Dean had a bond. A connection. Naomi had said that was possible only if Dean cared about him, and in this, Naomi had no reason to lie - no reason to test Castiel’s loyalties with the temptation of an affection he’d never had. And so Castiel dared to hope.

He thought of Dean, of his kind eyes, his gentle hands, his warm smile. He’d always taken what he needed from Castiel, but he’d always cared for him afterwards. Until that last time, when he’d acted like a monster. He’d accused Castiel of not caring about him, of seeing him as just another client. And then he’d acted like them.

It all clicked into place. Dean cared about him, check. Dean thought that Castiel didn’t care in the same way, check. Dean knew how Castiel’s other clients treated him, check. Dean had thought Castiel believed him just another client – another cruel monster who pretended to be kind, check. Dean had treated him the way he thought Castiel expected to be treated. He’d tried to give him what Dean thought he was expecting. He’d tried to prove to him that he was a monster. Dean had pushed him away – protecting himself.

But also protecting him.

Dean cared for him – enough to create a bond between them, enough to convince his brother to change the laws. Enough to try to protect him, and yet pushing him away at the same time. Protecting him from others like him, and also from himself.

And suddenly, Castiel knew what to do.


	4. Chapter 4

The house rose out of the gloom like the typical ancient vampiric mansion. Castiel didn’t know what he’d expected, but this house seemed to somehow fit Dean. It was sturdy, and well-built, and had a certain elegance to it – but there were no curlicues, intricate fences or anything else that those old Victorian homes had. It was a simple stone house, with Winchester carved into the stone above the door. A family home then, passed from generation to generation.

Castiel had asked for the night off, and while Zachariah, Naomi, and the others believed he was relaxing, he’d dressed and stolen down to the floor of offices. Most were locked, but he’d managed to find one from which he could call a directory and find Dean’s address. He’d called a cab, too, and then snuck out the back door. He’d also managed to steal some credit cards, from sneaking into Zachariah’s quarters. This meant Zachariah would probably find out and punish him later, but he didn’t care. He had to get to Dean.

The sun had set, and the night was cool, but with a bright moon and shining stars. He walked nervously up the stairs and knocked on the door, wondering if Dean was up yet and if he could hear. After several tense, nervous minutes, the thick oaken door swung opened to reveal – Dean.

Dean looked shocked to see him, but the thing Castiel noticed the most was just…Dean. His Dean, here, standing in front of him, in all his glory. His hair was ruffled- he’d likely gotten up recently – but his eyes were the bright green they always were.

“Did Zachariah send you?” Dean demanded angrily.

It wasn’t the first thing he’d expected Dean to say.

“Why would – “ he broke off, understanding. “Of course not! He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I missed you, Dean. I longed for you. I wanted to see you again.”

“Yeah, right. You came all the way out here to visit a monster like me. Well, it was a wasted trip, Cas. You can go back now,” he said, and started to close the door.

“Dean!” He stepped forward, tried to stop Dean shutting the door. “I know you care about me. I know we have a bond. Now let me in so we can talk.”

Dean froze, and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. Dean gestured, and Castiel followed him inside. He didn’t notice much around him except darkness, and he didn’t much care. He was here for Dean.

They walked into a comfortable room – a living room, it looked like – with a fireplace, full of books and comfortable armchairs and sofas. Lamps stood around the room, casting a soft light.

“So,” Dean turned to face him. “A bond, huh? I’ve heard of those. They’re rare. You think we have one?”

Of course we do, you idiot, Castiel thought. But he had only one chance to convince Dean, and this conversation would have to be a delicate dance.

“Yes,” he said instead.

Dean laughed, but there was no mirth in that laugh.

“I’m a monster, Cas. Don’t you understand that? You know what I am. You saw what I can do. You know that I’m no different than any other vampire. It doesn’t matter if we have some kind of bond. None of it matters, because if you had any sense at all, you’d run as fast as you can.”

Cas smiled, stepping closer.

“A bond requires that both individuals care about the other,” Cas said, with more courage than he felt. What if Naomi was wrong? What if he was wrong? What if it just required his love to create a bond? But if all that was required was unrequited love, bonds would be so much more common, wouldn’t they?

He ignored the questions nagging at him. Now or never, and if he listened to them it would be never. “And I care about you, Dean, because you’re not a monster. You might be a vampire, but you are also a good man. I believe it with all of my heart.”

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head. “No, I’m not. Whatever part of you cares about me, whatever part of you thinks that, you’re deluded. You don’t know what I truly am. You need to get out of here Cas, before I hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, Dean,” Castiel said calmly. He stepped closer.

“Damn it, Cas, you don’t know that! You’re not safe here! There’s no cameras, no silver, no anything. I could kill you, and nothing would stop me.”

Castiel shook his head with a smile. “There’s you. You’d stop yourself.”

He could feel Dean getting angry. Good. That was what he needed to prove his point. He started walking towards Dean, unbuttoning his shirt as he did.

“Wha- what are you doing?” Dean asked, voice shaky.

“Proving to you that you are a good man.” Step, button, button, step, until he stood before Dean. He drew aside the collar of his shirt, letting Dean see the bare, enticing skin of his neck. He saw Dean’s eyes redden and his lips widen, letting his fangs pop out at the offering Castiel was making him. To any other, he truly would have looked monstrous, but Castiel knew the man behind those eyes.

Dean shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “No, Cas, don’t. You have to go, run, before I – “

Castiel tilted his head, leaving his neck undefended. He could almost feel his own pulse beneath his skin, hear every single one of his breaths, just because he knew that Dean was listening to every single one of them.

“My life is in your hands,” he said softly. “But you won’t take it, because you’re not a monster.”

That last word was enough. Dean’s eyes filled with anger, terrifying, deadly anger. With a snarl, he grabbed Cas, and in a flash faster than his eyes could follow, he felt Dean’s fangs sinking into his neck.

He didn’t fight this time; he merely clung to Dean’s body, letting Dean hold him as he took from him. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let himself relax, floating, weightless, careless, as Dean held him and drank his lifeblood.

He didn’t worry. He trusted Dean. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that Dean would stop.

And so he let himself be held by the man he loved and forgot all Earthly worries.

He felt fatigue and numbness descend on him from the blood that Dean drew in gulps. His eyes fluttered again and he seemed to be falling, falling… falling off a precipice, forever falling, caught in a strange moment between life and death, a moment in which everything balanced precariously. It all came down to this moment where he was falling in darkness, and Dean would decide the outcome of his moment. But he knew that if he was falling, he was falling into Dean’s arms, and Dean would catch him.

That was his last thought before the world descended into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

“Cas. Cas. Open your eyes. Please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, just please open your eyes, I don’t care if you hate me forever, just please….”

Dean’s voice came to him at first as if through a deep, dark void, distant and echoing. It seemed to come closer, as if Dean himself was walking fearlessly through that void, coming closer to him. Then reality made itself known, the world righted itself, gravity pulled at him again and the dark weightlessness lifted. He blinked his eyes open to find himself on the floor in Dean’s arms, looking up at Dean – whose eyes, a brilliant, emerald green rather than a monstrous red, stared back at him. Something wet was at his lips, and instinctively, he licked his lips, tasting the iron of blood.

“Oh thank God,” Dean breathed. “Here, drink,” he ordered, and Castiel realized it was Dean’s blood on his lips, Dean’s bleeding wrist held to his mouth. He didn’t have the strength to lift his head, but he did have the strength to swallow as Dean pressed his skin against Castiel’s lips. He swallowed, and as always, felt that energy, those sparks, spreading through his veins as his bite healed and his strength returned.

Dean was leaning over him, watching the changes avidly. He seemed to know exactly when Castiel had had enough, drawing his arm away softly. The next thing he knew, Dean was lifting him gently and carrying him to a sumptuous bed.

“Rest,” he said. “you need to get your strength back.”

He tried to sink into the soft mattress and get comfortable, but something was missing. He reached out for Dean, who sat at the edge of the bed, facing away from him. “Hold me,” he asked softly.

Dean jumped as if burned at his touch, and again at his words.

“Cas – “

“Please?” he asked, looking with pleading eyes up at Dean, knowing Dean wouldn’t be able to resist. After a few seconds, Dean lay down next to him, hesitant, barely daring to touch. Castiel scooted closer, snuggling up to Dean. He lay on his side, an arm around Castiel, and Cas put his hands over it, making sure Dean wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” Dean murmured softly.

Castiel just smiled.

Dean looked at him incredulously. “How can you stand me right now? I nearly killed you, and you want to be near me?” 

“But you didn’t.” Castiel rolled over onto his side, watching Dean’s face in profile with the light against it. “You stopped. Something in you, something human, something good, made you stop. That’s what I wanted to show you. That you’re not a monster. That you could be good.”

Dean shook his head, still looking incredulous.

“You believed in me that much? Even when I was – “ he broke off.

“Yes,” Castiel said honestly.

Dean looked away, blinking, and was that a tear on his eyelashes, twinkling in the soft lamplight? “No one’s ever believed in me that much,” he admitted hoarsely.

“I’ve never believed in anyone that much before either. You’re the first person that I ever trusted this much.”

Dean looked awed. His hand traced Castiel’s face gently, as if he couldn’t believe he was there. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked.

Castiel thought he could ask Dean the same question.

….

They lay in a comfortable silence for a while, but Castiel could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the house, counting away the minutes. Eventually, he’d be missed. Zachariah would notice he was gone and go looking for him. And when Castiel returned… he didn’t want to think about it.

“I should go back soon,” he said reluctantly.

“How’d you get here anyway?” Dean asked with sudden curiosity.

“I snuck out,” Castiel admitted. “They don’t know I’m gone.”

Dean sat up, looking suddenly concerned.

“Is he going to be angry? He’s not going to – punish you, is he?”

Castiel sat up too, shrugging. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

After a few moments of consideration, Dean spoke again.

“Why do you stay there, Cas?”

“I owe a debt to Zachariah. My entire family does,” he admitted finally.

“But do you want something different? To be free? To live your own life and answer to yourself? To never have to – to have someone like me use you again?”

“I’ve always wanted to see the world,” Castiel admitted. “I know there are wonders the world over, beautiful creations made by humans, and I want to see them.”

“What if I could set you free? Give you money, pay off your debt, make sure Zachariah never came after you? You could see the world, do whatever you wanted. You could be free, Cas.” Dean’s eyes shone with excitement at the idea, and Castiel looked in those eyes and wished his own could shine with the same excitement.

“I’ve never had freedom before. It seems… strange. I wouldn’t know what to do with it. And I wouldn’t want to do it alone. I’d want… someone… by my side, to see the world with. Someone I care about,” he added, with a pointed look at Dean. Dean opened his mouth in surprise, but didn’t say anything. “If I were free, I’d want to be with you.”

Dean rose. “Cas- “ he began.

“I know we have a connection – a bond, and I know that means you care about me. I know I want to spend the rest of my days with you, but I don’t know how strongly you feel. But if this bond means that you want me the way I want you – “

Dean snorted. “As if you have to ask.”

“I don’t know how these bonds work, Dean,” Castiel huffed, frustrated.

Dean looked away again. “These bonds, they don’t just require a connection. They form when a vampire and a human are… Intimate.”

“Intimate as in… sex? Or blood drinking? But I’ve done that with other va-“

“Not like that,” Dean said curtly. “Intimate emotionally. When two people bare themselves to each other. It’s so rare because that kind of intimacy rarely happens between vampires and humans.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t change anything, Cas. It doesn’t matter how much – how much I need you, because I’m a monster. You think you know me, but you really don’t. You see what you want to see. You see good that isn’t there, and that’s why we have a bond. It’s based on who you think I am, the person you think you know intimately. But there will always be a part of me that will hunger for your blood, that will want to hold you helpless and drink you dry. And what if one day I can’t control myself? What if one day I’m hungry, or I get hit by a spell or something, and I hurt you? Don’t you get it? Every single minute, it’s a struggle between - between caring for you, and the monster in me, and one day I might not be strong enough.”

Castiel rose too, coming closer to Dean and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dean jumped at the touch, but to Castiel’s relief, didn’t shrug it off.

“You will be strong enough, Dean,” he said affectionately. “You just proved that. You can’t kill me. You won’t kill me.”

Dean threw his hands up in the air. “You don’t know that! I didn’t this time, but I could one day. Every single second, Cas, there is a part inside of me that wants nothing more than to hurt you, to kill you. Could you live your life in that kind of fear?

“I don’t fear you,” Castiel said gently.

“You should. It doesn’t matter that we have a bond, it doesn’t matter, because no matter how much I care for you, there’s a monster in me. Could you live every single second knowing that one of those seconds, my humanity might lose the fight, just for an instant, and that instant would be long enough for me to lose you forever?”

“You are stronger than the monster in you, I know you are. And I want to be with you.”

“No. I won’t put you in danger like that. I refuse.”

It was Castiel’s turn to snap.

“Dammit, Dean! You are so wrapped up in your self-hate and your loathing and denial that you won’t see what’s around you, will you? You’re not a killer. You didn’t kill me, and you won’t, but you’re so used to just bad things happening that you can’t believe that something good could happen to you, so whenever anything that looks like it could be a good thing shows up you shove it away and tell yourself that that’s how it should be. But I’m not going to stand for it – “

“Cas-“

“Shut up.” Castiel drew himself up to his full height. Dean was still taller, but he didn’t care. He was angry. “Do you really think I don’t know you? After all the things you told me about yourself, and what you did for your brother, and the choices you had to make? After all I’ve seen of you fearing yourself, and the monster you think you are, and pushing me away, despite all the kindness and gentleness you’ve shown me? After I’ve seen you try to kill me in anger, only to be unable to do it? After I heard you, begging me to open my eyes and be all right? Do you really think I don’t know you? That I’m some deluded teenager who’s developed a crush on some idol they’ve never met?” Castiel demanded, his voice getting angrier with each question.

“I – “ Dean tried to interrupt.

“This is my choice to make,” Castiel cut him off. “Mine. You just offered me my freedom, and that means I get to choose what to do with my life. And I choose you. If you truly want me, then I will never leave your side, and nothing you ever do will succeed in pushing me away. Heaven and Hell themselves could not take me away from you, and you certainly can’t push me away, and every time you try, I will come back to you until you realize that good things do happen, Dean!”

Dean’s expression changed rapidly as Castiel talked, first shock and surprise to hear Castiel talk to him like this. Castiel had never spoken to Dean with that much anger, and he found that all his anger at Dean, at Dean’s self-loathing and self-denial, was suddenly bubbling up and exploding in a heavenly rage. Then that expression turned to outright disbelief, as if Dean didn’t dare to believe what Cas was saying, then to affection, and finally… adoration.

Castiel had never seen adoration before. Nobody had looked at him with adoration, but he knew that’s what it was, and on Dean’s face, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Slowly, with disbelief still painted on his face, Dean walked towards him, as if in a trance. He pulled Castiel close, held him tight and gently at the same time, and Castiel sank happily into his arms. Dean brought their lips together, in a kiss unlike any they’d shared before, full of tenderness and an adoration that Dean had never dared to pour into his kiss before now.

Dean’s fangs had retracted, and in that kiss he felt nothing of a predator or a vampire. He just felt Dean and Dean’s love, and he responded in kind.

“I’m never going to let anyone else touch you,” Dean told him, caressing his face gently. “No one else, no vampire, no human, will ever lay a hand on you again. I swear, I will protect you.”

Castiel smiled brightly. “I know.” After a second, he dared to add, “I want you to promise me something else.”

“What?”

“I want to be the only one you feed from.”

Dean frowned. “Cas- “

“Please. I don’t like the idea of you taking from anyone else. You can drink True Blood or bloodbags when you need to, but I want to be the only human that you drink from.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “Only you, Cas.”

….

Castiel didn’t think he’d ever seen Zachariah as shocked as when he and Dean walked into the Palace together. He opened his mouth, his plump face and beady eyes looking pathetically confused.

Without a word, Dean withdrew a thick pile of bills and threw them at Zachariah.

“From this day on, Castiel is mine,” was all he said.

“Mr. Winchester – “ Zachariah stuttered. “We do not own Castiel. This is not slavery. You cannot simply buy him!”

“No?” Dean’s voice was sharp enough to cut through skin. “So you did not buy him from his family? And you do not force him to stay here, paying off his debt, by threatening him with the deaths of his family?”

“I – “

Dean stepped closer, and Zachariah shrank back.

“Consider his debt paid. And if you or any of yours ever come after him again, I will set every single vampire under my power to hunt you down and kill you. All of you. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Zachariah stuttered helplessly.

They left without another word. Dean started steadfastly ahead, but Castiel glanced back, taking in the sight of Zachariah cowering. It was a satisfying last look.


	6. Chapter 6

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said honestly, when they’d returned home. This man had saved him, and set him free, in more ways but one.

Dean features broke into a smile bright as the sunrise. “I should be the one thanking you,” he said, “For believing in me.”

Dean was beautiful before him, practically glowing with happiness. Castiel felt a sudden surge of affection, and before he could stop himself, he was kissing Dean. Dean’s arms wrapped around him automatically, holding him with warmth and gentleness, kissing him back.

“I want you,” Castiel said breathlessly.

“How do you want me, Cas?”

“Like this.” Before he knew what he was doing, he was pushing Dean backwards, shoving him roughly against the wall. He should never have been able to move Dean, not with his merely human strength, but Dean went along, letting Cas manhandle him. And when Castiel took Dean’s wrists and held them to the wall above his head, Dean let him with an amused smile. Castiel made use of that opportunity to kiss Dean again, harder this time – rough and demanding rather than gentle, biting and trying to force himself into Dean’s mouth as much as to kiss him.

When he let go, Dean stayed still, hands held against the wall, watching Castiel carefully. His pupils were dilated, and his breaths came quickly. “Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” Castiel ordered.

Dean obeyed, although he unbuttoned his shirt with excruciating slowness. Castiel folded his arms and glared until Dean hurried up, throwing off shirt, jeans, and boxers before sprawling on the bed.

Castiel walked over slowly, curiously. Dean’s eyes followed him as he approached and ran a hand slowly up Dean’s thigh. He knelt on the bed, spreading Dean’s legs with his knee. Dean let them fall open, sprawling gracefully on the bed. Castiel sucked in a breath. Here was Dean, lying seemingly helpless before him, as if – as if Castiel were the vampire and he were the obedient human. The power that surged through him was heady and intoxicating, like electricity in his veins.

He gathered Dean’s wrists again, pinning them to the bed above him. “Be still,” he ordered. Dean nodded obediently, and he released them. True to his word, Dean stayed still as Castiel leaned over to kiss his lips. It was a quick kiss before Castiel trailed his lips down Dean’s neck and to the crook of neck and shoulder. He bit playfully, and Dean chuckled. “Gonna drink me, Cas?”

Castiel smiled. “I was considering it,” he answered with the same playfulness. Dean turned his head, closing his eyes and offering Castiel his neck. He looked almost human like this, the lashes kissing his cheek, and the graceful curve of his neck. Castiel bit him – not hard enough to draw blood, they both knew he couldn’t do that – but hard enough to bruise, if vampires could bruise. Dean gasped, in pleasure and surprise. Vampires didn’t get bitten very often.

Relishing his power over Dean, Castiel moved on to kissing every inch of that beautiful body. He traced Dean’s scars with his tongue. He flicked his tongue over Dean’s nipples playfully until they hardened, then sucked them into his mouth one by one and bit. Dean trembled with the sensations, but his hands remained where they were, above his head. His head was thrown back, eyelashes fluttering, his mouth open, and Castiel thought that Dean had never been as beautiful as he was now, like this, before him… surrendering.

He trailed his kisses down Dean’s chest and towards his stomach, but carefully avoided his cock and balls. Dean was hard – had been for a while now, and his hips kept jerking with the need for touch, for sensation. Castiel placed his hands on Dean’s hips. “I told you to stay still,” he said, and Dean tried, visibly, to relax.

That was Castiel’s cue to continue trailing kisses, this time down Dean’s thigh. He bit again at the artery there, and Dean laughed again in memory of a time that he had drunk from that place.

Finally, he made it to Dean’s cock, full and red and needy and begging for attention. It was as beautiful as the rest of Dean, and Castiel bent over, blowing on the head, mouthing at it, licking lightly from base to tip. Dean’s hips jerked in response, a low whine coming from his throat. He needed more.

Castiel lifted his head and sent a mischievous glance to Dean. “I thought I told you to stay still,” he said sternly, placing his hands pointedly at Dean’s hips. Dean groaned. “Yes, Cas,” he finally said.

“Good. Do you have – “

Dean nodded. “In the bathroom.”

Castiel rose from the bed. He bent over to whisper in Dean’s ear, “Don’t you dare move, or I’ll tie you to the bed with silver.” Dean’s eyes reddened ever so slightly, the predator’s need for domination and self-preservation fighting with the desire to give in to Cas. Finally, the latter won out, and Dean’s body seemed to deflate and relax. “As you wish,” he said. Castiel noted the way Dean’s nails dug into his palms in an attempt to stay still and smiled.

He took his time getting the lube, walking to the bathroom slowly, taking off some of his own clothes on the way, rummaging loudly through the drawers before he found the bottle. When he entered the bedroom again, Dean’s hands were by his sides, digging into the sheets as his breaths came in quick gasps. His eyes were almost completely red now, full of the need to dominate and punish this human who tried to dominate a creature more powerful than him. Castiel smiled.

“Good boy.” The praise tumbled from his lips before he knew what he was doing, and Dean’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Get on with it,” he demanded.

Castiel was already hard himself, and there was nothing he wanted more than to just shove himself inside Dean right then and there and fuck him as hard as he could, but he forced himself to move slowly as he climbed onto the bed again and poured generous amounts of lube onto his fingers.

Dean’s entire body seemed to jump off the bed as he inserted the first finger. Curious, Castiel moved it in and out, trying various angles, and watched in fascination as Dean’s body jerked and gasps and growls fell from his mouth. He was so fascinated by Dean’s reactions that he almost forgot that this was just the preparation. He inserted two fingers, then three, watching Dean struggle.

“Cas… Cas, please,” the more human side of him begged.

Finally, Dean was ready, and Castiel sucked in a deep breath nervously. He’d never done this before- had never fucked anyone like this. A momentary fear came over him. What if he wasn’t any good at it? But Dean, lying before him, pleading, gave him the courage he needed. After a bit of fumbling, he slid smoothly into Dean and gasped.

It felt better than he’d ever thought it would. It was so much better than a handjob, or a vibrator, or anything he’d experienced. It was heat and tightness, encasing him, almost begging him to move, to make use of it. And he did. He began to move, slowly to relish every single sensation, then faster.

Dean moved in response to his thrusts, and at this point, Castiel didn’t even care. He just cared that he was fucking Dean, who was making the most beautiful guttural noises Castiel had ever heard. It was fast and messy and uncoordinated, with Dean finally grabbing Castiel’s hips and controlling his movements while Castiel tried to pin his arms back down. He didn’t really care, though – there would be more time to work out coordination and work on Dean’s obedience later. Right now, he was just too intoxicated by the sensation of being inside Dean to care about Dean’s hands digging into his hips, controlling his movements, or about the fact that his hand somehow seemed to find its way to Dean’s cock on its own. When the two of them finally came – Cas first, then Dean, they collapsed onto each other, utterly oblivious to the mess, both panting. Neither knew what to say, but Castiel was pretty sure they were both thinking the same thing.

That had been fantastic.

“So,” Dean asked playfully when they’d both caught their breath. “Did I service you as you desired, oh human master?”

“More than adequately,” Castiel said with a smile.

“Huh.” Dean appeared to consider that for a while. “I guess that means there’s room for practice and improvement.”

“Plenty,” Castiel agreed.

In fact, they had all of eternity.


End file.
